


WILD

by frankier_hoe



Series: The Blue Neighborhood Series [1]
Category: Blue Neighbourhood | Wild - Troye Sivan (Music Videos), My Chemical Romance
Genre: Blue Neighborhood, M/M, troye sivan - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 12:08:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8013178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frankier_hoe/pseuds/frankier_hoe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part One WILD: Frank Iero and Gerard Way in Troye Sivan's Blue Neighborhood Series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	WILD

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Blue Neighborhood Trilogy](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/228556) by Troye Sivan. 



WILD  
.  
“Never knew loving could hurt this good.”

 

Gerard hadn’t seen Frank in over 18 hours and he missed him. Maybe they were borderline codependent, or they already were, Gerard didn’t really care.   
He wandered through the blue boatyard, weaving his way through the peeling paint and ocean soaked wood, hands deep in his pockets. Hide and go seek games from years ago danced through his head, he cringed as he remembered the stupid decision he had made to hide under a boat along with about twenty spider’s nests. He laughed a little as he walked, remembering how fearless 8 year old Frank had plucked the spiders off of him with a condescending grin.

He spotted Frank a couple of feet away, paint decorating his ripped denim jeans, focused on repainting the cracked wood, a task imposed on him by the usual criminal.

“Hey, Frank,” Gerard said, smiling and avoiding Frank’s eyes at first, still nervous around him. Years couldn’t take that away: it was in his nature.

“Hey, Gerard,” Frank said mimicking his friend’s shy tone with a smirk. His posture was straight and his shoulders broad as he worked on the boat, no hint of embarrassment in his position. Gerard grinned, brushing it off and standing almost shoulder to shoulder with Frank as he worked.

“Need any help?” Gerard offered, he knew he’d have to fight Frank on this, he always did. The guy wouldn’t even let him pay him for taking care of his cats for literally two months when he was gone in Rome. Gerard traveled a lot with his parents, at his own request to see Bernini and Michelangelo in real life; Frank and him were not allowed to travel together.

“No, I’m good, I’m almost done,” Frank replied, his face set. Gerard glanced at the boat; at least half of it was unpainted.

“Where are the brushes?” Gerard asked, ignoring Frank as he made his way back to the metal shed baking in the summer heat. He could hear Frank’s laughter as he dug through the shed, a bead of sweat dripping down his face; maybe the two layered, green-black fall look was a mistake. He grabbed a brush from the top shelf, ignoring the layers of spider webs. As he made his way back, he found himself envious of Frank’s look, tattoos faintly visible through the fabric of his white t-shirt, it looked quite a bit cooler.

“No spiders this time?” Frank questioned, standing on his tiptoes to reach the top line of wood.

“No spiders,” Gerard affirmed. He worked next to Frank for a few minutes of silence, some old rock station coming in fuzzy from Frank’s radio in the background. 

“Is your dad home?” Gerard asked, tiptoeing around what needed to be said. This always happened to them. They talked about what needed to be said without saying what needed to be said. It was infuriating to Gerard, he wanted to be free versed with Frank, and he should be after all this time.

“Nah,” Frank shook his head, “he’s at the hardware store looking for parts for our dishwasher.” Gerard smiled, the Iero’s dishwasher was a running joke simply because it never fucking ran. They’d been trying to fix it for months, but could never get it to stop leaking fluid all over the floor. Both of them tacitly knew it was the pipes, but Mr. Iero was determined.

“Hey, Frank, guess why kids never prank call your house,” Gerard said, biting back a grin as he dipped into the paint bucket.

“Why don’t they, Gerard? Please enlighten me,” Frank turned to Gerard, a helpless grin on his face.

“Because you never have to catch your dishwasher because it never fucking runs,” Gerard finished, earning a shove from Frank.

“That joke’s only for refrigerators, dumbass. Now get back to work,” Frank said, laughing despite himself. Gerard rolled his eyes and went back to painting, it went a lot quicker with the two of them. In this summer heat, Gerard was glad that Frank’s dad hadn’t the money to purchase a bigger boat.

He wiped his forehead, undoubtedly smearing white paint across his forehead. It didn’t matter, Frank was already entirely covered in it, he’d soon match. 

“Up next, we have one of my personal favorites, hit it Stevie,” The radio announced. After a few awkward seconds of silence before the song played, Landslide came through clear. Frank looked over at Gerard, and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. Gerard met his gaze and rolled up his sleeves wordlessly.

“Come here,” Frank said, setting the paintbrush in the can of paint. Gerard walked over to Frank, grinning lazily in the summer heat.

“Is this close enough or do you want me closer?” Gerard asked, toe to toe with Frank, who laughed and shook his head.

“I’m so easy,” Gerard laughed and wiped his forehead again. 

“Come closer,” Frank replied, as Gerard stepped closer, Frank’s hands reached to Gerard’s waist and hand. Gerard fit his hand with Frank’s, calloused and covered in paint. His other hand was placed carefully on top of Frank’s damp white t-shirt.

“Well I’ve been afraid of changing,” Frank sang quietly, the whine in his voice still audible as he rest his head on Gerard’s shoulder. The two of them rocking and stepping slowly together with the buzz of the radio and the cicadas. 

Gerard breathed slowly, dipping his head down, his wet hair falling in his eyes as he held Frank closer. It was too hot to sing anymore, and it was probably too hot to dance, but it didn’t make either of them break apart.

“The landslide bring you down,” Frank murmured the last words of the song breathy into Gerard’s shoulder; Gerard could feel Frank’s lips moving through the fabric. Stevie stopped singing, and they kept swaying, regardless of the radio host speaking quietly in the background. Gerard absently wondered if he was into ASMR, he had the voice for it. 

Frank’s hands dropped to the small of Gerard’s back, and Gerard’s arms met him on top of Frank’s shoulders. Gerard closed his eyes, the heat of the sun beating on him; Frank was sheltered by Gerard’s figure. Frank slipped his hands through the band of Gerard’s underwear, the womens jeans’ stretchy material allowing him easy access as he slipped his hand’s down to the curve of Gerard’s ass.

“Frank,” Gerard sighed, equal in annoyance and pleasure, “we have a boat to paint.” Gerard felt Frank grin into his shoulder. Frank gave Gerard’s ass a squeeze before pulling away, both of their bodies glad for the lack of body heat.

“Alright, alright, let’s finish this up. Then we only have to-”

“-wash the dishes-” Gerard interrupted, and they both grinned.

“-and take a cold shower,” Frank finished, Gerard nodded vehemently in agreement. Bullet with Butterfly Wings came on, and it overpowered the buzz of cicadas for a while; they painted into the afternoon and Mr. Iero still wasn’t home.  
…  
Gerard undid the knot of his buttoned up shirt tied around his waist, grossed out at the spot of sweat on the back that he saw as it fell to the tiled floor. He peeled off his black t-shirt, the pale skin grateful to have it off. Frank knocked on the door out of politeness.

“Come in!” Gerard chirped, more energetic because of the cold beer the two of them had split after finishing the boat, Frank was far too cautious to take two. Frank opened the door and squeezed through the crack, shutting it behind him quickly. 

“Everything okay?” Gerard asked, stepping towards Frank. Frank nodded, trying to brush it off as he studied the dirty tiled floor, not making any move to take off his sweaty, paint stained clothes. Gerard frowned and moved his hands to the bottom of Frank’s shirt, peeling it off of gently. Frank sighed at the nicety.

“Dad should be home by now, the later he’s out…” Frank rubbed his face, a line forming between his brows. Gerard nodded focusing on the button of Frank’s jeans.

“Wanna stay at mine tonight then?” He offered, falling to his knees as he pulled off Frank’s jeans. He pressed a kiss to Frank’s hip and then looked up at him through his damp mop of black hair. Frank passed a hand through Gerard’s hair, looking down at him.

“You know I do, but my dad…” Frank sighed, running his fingers through Gerard’s damp hair, pushing it out of his face.

“He’d allow it if you said you were staying at Jamia’s,” Gerard ployed, grinning at Frank a little, passing his mouth over the bulge in Frank’s underwear.

“G, you know I can’t say no when I’ve got you on your knees,” Frank said with a laugh. Gerard pressed a kiss to the band of Frank’s underwear before tugging it down with his fingers.

“Then don’t say no,” He replied simply, meeting Frank’s eyes. Frank smiled a little at him, and Gerard took is an okay to take Frank into his mouth. 

“Ahh, G,” Frank sighed, closing his eyes and tipping his head back against the peeling blue wall of the bathroom.  
…

Gerard and Frank brushed shoulders on the short walk to Gerard’s house, it was incredibly strange how close the two neighborhoods where, and how exceptionally different they were. Gerard lived about a half mile from Frank’s house in a home made of glass and furniture that would cost as much as Frank’s college education. 

As kids, Frank hadn’t noticed the differences between the two of them, he hadn’t felt the worried gazes of the Ways when he took off his shirt to go swimming. Gerard hadn’t either, and in his foolish, childish mind, he thought the dark spots on his friend were an entirely normal occurrence.

Middle school rolled around as did Frank’s point of view. He realized the differences between them, which created an ocean's worth. And as much as Frank tried to weather the journey to Gerard’s house, his father’s boat just simply wasn’t enough. Middle school was a bad time for Frank. Middle school was a good time for Gerard, he dated his first boyfriend, went to public school, and acted in the school plays. Sometimes Frank felt that an ocean between their two worlds was a bit of an understatement.

Now, as Frank slipped off his dirty converse, similar in cleanliness to Gerard’s, he didn’t feel quite as foolish for falling in love with Gerard as he had when he’d first realized what love was. He didn’t feel an ocean between them, right now all he could feel was the heat of Gerard’s chest against his as Gerard kissed him in the doorway of his house. A routine that didn’t feel like a routine, kissing for the thirty seconds that it took for Gerard’s Grandma to make her way from the couch to the door.

“Gerard?” Grandma Way called, her voice echoing through the large house, normally the only one who greeted them. She was old enough that she couldn’t live on her own anymore, but Gerard felt like the real reason she lived with them was simply for the excuse of more business trips from his parents-which was all the time now. Gerard pulled away from Frank, both of them smiling as they greeted the elder Mrs. Way. With both of his parents absent most of the time, Gramma way was more of a parent than Gerard’s had ever been.

“What did you two boys do today?” Gerard’s Gram asked, trying to remain neutral; she always seemed to know everything. Gerard was an open book to her, the only person who could read him better was Frank.

“We re-painted my dad’s boat today, it was fucking hot out today, Mrs. Way,” Frank said, lightly touching Gerard’s back as he passed him on his way to the kitchen. Gramma Way smiled at Gerard, who returned the gesture, knowing Frank’s intentions.

“Your vegan cookies aren’t quite done yet, Frank,” Mrs. Way called as loud as she could manage on her way back to the couch. Gerard laughed with his Gram, both of them hearing Frank’s groan from the kitchen, which was acceptable: Gramma Way did make some pretty fucking good cookies.

Gerard found Frank frowning and leaning against the counter opposite of the oven. He looked at Frank’s features for a bit, biting his lip at the studious expression on his face.

“You know,” Gerard said as he lent against the counter next to Frank, “They take longer when you look at them.” Frank sighed and rest his head against Gerard’s shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah I know, but god hates me so I’m going to watch them,” He declared, true to his word, his eyes stayed trained on the oven timer (five minutes and twenty four seconds left). 

“What does god have to do with your cookie obsession?” Gerard snorted, throwing his head back. 

“Well he made me so... literally everything,” Frank stated firmly, scowling at the cookies.

“I thought you didn’t believe in god,” Gerard replied, offering a valid point.

Frank waved his hand, dismissing it, “Minor detail, he still hates me.” Gerard let out a honking laugh pulling away from Frank to lean against the counter.

“Hey, don’t make fun of me!” Frank protested, tickling Gerard’s side as a rebuttal, causing his honking laughter to increase to new and untapped heights, “Motherfucker!” Frank yelled, giving into Gerard’s infectious geese laugh.

“Frank!” Gerard gasped, taking his hands, not able to take anymore. Frank tripped over the tile in Gerard’s kitchen, leading to Gerard gripping Frank’s elbows to keep him upright.  
“I’m just fucking weak with hunger I guess,” Frank smirked as he pressed his face into Gerard’s shirt, “I’m like passing out and I need my totally manly boyfriend to rescue me.” Gerard grinned widely as he tucked the younger boy into his arms, resting his head on his hair. It smelled like the familiar musk of Frank’s shampoo, which he adorned his own hair too.

“Hey, I’m pretty manly I painted a motherfucking boat with you today,” Gerard said quietly. The tone of the room had changed to soft cotton t-shirts and the smell of Frank’s shampoo.

“Yeah,” Frank responded softly, tired now with Gerard’s hand rubbing his back. He felt himself close his eyes, the traces of his neighborhood leaving him. He could only feel Gerard’s warm torso and hear the faint buzz of the oven, and a soft voice coming from the television in the other room.

The timer for the cookies interrupted the cotton t-shirt moment and Gerard moved to turn off the over, Frank stayed close with his arms still looped around Gerard’s waist. He watched as Gerard focused on pressing a few of the million buttons on their oven that made absolutely no sense to Frank.

“Let’s just go to bed,” Frank murmured, suddenly too tired to do anything else. Unusual for Frank, he normally slept for a few hours every night and had more energy than the entire Way family combined.

“Too tired even for cookies?” Gerard asked doubtfully, Frank responded by rubbing his face tiredly against Gerard’s chest. Gerard slid his arms over Frank, one hand sliding to Frank’s ass to snag the flip phone from his back pocket. Frank made no move to stop him and closed his eyes, tightening his grip around Gerard’s waist. 

He listened to the familiar click of the keys of his flip phone as Gerard typed out a text undoubtedly for his dad, informing him that Frank would be spending the night at Jamia’s. Gerard slid the phone back into Frank’s pocket, holding him for a moment.

“Was everything okay today with your dad?” Gerard asked, pressing his face into Frank’s hair. Frank sighed against Gerard’s chest, remaining silent. He slid a hand up and down Gerard’s back a few times.

“Frankie, you’re worrying me, I worry about you, I worry,” A trait of Gerard’s that Frank wouldn’t ever miss: his worrying. It was unhealthy, but there wasn’t enough people in Frank’s life who did worry and he figured it made up for it: simple overcompensation.

“I’ll show you,” Frank replied, his voice soft and neutral. He pulled away from Gerard, regarding him for a moment, as if it was the first time he’d seen him. A confused look played over Gerard’s features. 

“I’ll never get over you,” Frank answered Gerard’s look. Gerard blushed and looked at the ground, he never knew what to say. Frank took Gerard’s hand, and Gerard could still feel some flecks of paint on Frank’s calloused hand as he led him to his own bedroom.

As they passed Gramma Way, Frank would have thanked her for the cookies, but he found her asleep on the couch. Briefly he wondered if it was because of the baking that she was so tired and he tried not to feel guilty.

Once in the bedroom, Frank quietly pulled the door shut. His hands reached the hem of his shirt, but before pulling it over his head, he allowed himself to be distracted by the paintings in Gerard’s room. Originally Gerard as a young kid had dubbed himself as a comic geek, which he still was-mainly because of Frank’s insistence which pushed him to create comics in the first place, knowing truly that Gerard was full of too many ideas not to. Years later, Gerard had found more important things to paint: the sea, blue roaring waves compared to the unnerving calm of the ocean before a storm, Frank’s shoulder’s in the morning light, the ocean after a storm, Frank’s eyes closed in one and open in the other… the ocean, the ocean, Frank… The list goes on…

“Frank,” and then Gerard was mere inches from his face, wiping away tears that he hadn't felt falling onto his face.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Frank repeated it few times, squinting his eyes shut and releasing the grip on his own shirt to grab Gerard’s.

“I don’t even know why I’m crying,” Frank said finally, opening his eyes and rubbing his face in the absence of Gerard’s hands. 

“Maybe because...” Gerard’s sentence hung unfinished and quiet in the air as he looked from Frank’s wet lashes to the hem of his shirt. He removed Frank’s hands slowly from his shirt, and worked at Frank’s own. He heard Frank sniffle and glanced up at him, his face now pink with crying and his eyes red with it, Gerard hated to see him this way, but god, was he beautiful wrecked.

Gerard tugged the shirt over Frank’s head, the only sound in the room coming from the soft thud of Frank’s shirt as it hit the ground.

“What didn’t I see when we were in the shower, Frank?” Gerard’s voice was soft, but the words stung with a reminder of what had happened. 

“The dishwasher was fucked up as usual, and I left like two dishes in the sink, so he yelled like he does and pushed me,” Frank took a deep breath, Gerard could see his large rib cage expand and contract slowly, “I fell and in the process hit my back on the counter, pretty fucking hard, right on my pumpkin.” Gerard stepped closer his hand’s touching gently around the pumpkin tattoo. He understood why he hadn't noticed in the steam of Frank’s shower, the pumpkin hid the large yellow bruise exceptionally well. Gerard felt something catch in his throat.

“Frank,” he started.

“It didn’t fuck up my ink did it? Cause if it did,” Frank turned around, and met Gerard’s eyes, he softened, “I’ll kill him.”

Gerard ran a hand through his hair, sorting his thoughts out for a second, before taking Frank’s arm and guiding him into his arms. Frank pushed against Gerard so that they fell back onto Gerard’s bed. He was comforted and surrounded by it until he felt Gerard shake once underneath him, then again. He pushed off of Gerard a little, resting his weight on his left elbow. Before he could gage what was happening, Gerard’s hands went up to his face; he let out a choked sob.

“I don’t like him, Frank, I don’t like seeing you h-hurt,” Gerard managed, the parts of his face visible were contorted in pain. Frank felt his heart ache and he lent forward, carefully nudging Gerard’s hands away from his face with his hands. He pressed his face against Gerard’s, his mouth just touching the corner of Gerard’s, breathing against him.

“It’s so fucked up, you shouldn’t have to fucking g-go through that,” Gerard’s words came out as puffs against Frank’s cheek. Frank shut his eyes, feeling the ache go through his entire body. He breathed a couple of times, breathing with Gerard until his sobs subsided. He ran his fingers through Gerard’s hair, not saying anything, just breathing.

“It’s just what I have to do, Gerard,” Frank said eventually, “it’s just what I have to do.” He opened his eyes and looked at Gerard, who was looking up at him, so much in his expression there wasn’t anything to describe it.

Gerard pushed himself up, pressing his open mouth to Frank’s. His tongue was warm against Frank’s and they kissed open mouthed, lazy. Frank felt himself melt against Gerard’s body, rocking himself into a rhythm against the boy beneath him. The bed didn’t creek like Frank’s did; all he could hear was their movements against Gerard’s white comforter. He heard soft and short little moans from Gerard, pink sounding beautiful things. He kissed Gerard, keeping his mouth on him as they rocked. 

He slid his hand down into Gerard’s pants, stroking him to the beat of their rocking bodies. Gerard was moaning against his mouth and it was all Frank could do to keep some of his weight propped up. Gerard whined more urgently, and slipped a hand into Frank’s jeans, jerking him off to their rhythm. Frank moaned low and ducked his head down, tucked into Gerard’s shoulder.

He heard Gerard’s moans become shorter, more desperate. Gerard tipped his head back and let out a soft cry, cum spilling over Frank's hand. Gerard, eyes closed, moved his hand faster against Frank, having felt his muscles clench with his body pressed against Gerard.

“Gerard,” Frank managed before coming into Gerard’s hand. He lowered his body entirely against Gerard’s side, his leg between Gerard’s and his arm across Gerard’s chest. He felt the rise and fall of Gerard’s chest and rose and fell with it.

“I love you,” Frank said, his breath hot against Gerard’s neck. Gerard opened his eyes and looked at Frank, that indescribable expression on his face again.

“I love you, Frank, I love you so much,” Gerard looked like he was going to cry again, and Frank could feel it climbing up his throat too, he kissed Gerard, their lips moving slow. And then he wasn’t kissing him, their mouths were open and pressed against each other, just breathing. 

“I’m fucking wild about you,” Frank murmured, settling himself against Gerard, gripping his side, “fucking wild.”


End file.
